


White Walls and Paper Hearts

by starbursts_and_kisses



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, If Rhaegar had won, Jon and Arya bonding, Scheming mothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-28 03:18:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbursts_and_kisses/pseuds/starbursts_and_kisses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Catelyn Stark uses reverse psychology on her youngest daughter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Walls and Paper Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Catelyn’s chapter in ACOK where she tells Brienne, “Arya was a trial, it must be said. Half a boy and half a wolf pup. Forbid her anything and it became her heart’s desire.”
> 
> I will go down with this pairing, so help me God.

 

Catelyn watched the procession of mounted riders and wayns trudge slowly through the ankle-deep snow leading to Winterfell’s innermost courtyard, the proud red-and-black banners of House Targaryen fluttering back and forth in the wind, a distinct contrast to the bleak landscape surrounding them. As their column approached, it became apparent that the Southern men had not fared well to the rapid change in temperature, and everywhere she looked she saw weary and wind-bitten faces. The North was no place for Southerners, that much was plain, but no one could fault them for being without courage. For them to brave the cold in order to witness the future Lord of Winterfell safely wed, well, now that was something that struck her as rather admirable.

The first rider who reached them was a familiar figure, and as he dismounted, Catelyn saw black curls, smiling grey eyes, and a long face that instantly reminded her of her husband. “Prince Jon,” Eddard Stark called out in greeting, embracing him the way he would a son. Looking at them both, the resemblance was uncanny, and sometimes even Catelyn forgot that they were only nephew and uncle.

She welcomed him next, her voice warm and genuine. Robb followed, taking great pleasure in introducing him to his young, soon-to-be-wife, the Lady Margaery of House Tyrell. Sansa, ever polite and lady-like, favored him with a smile, but Bran and Rickon, who were younger and decidedly more unruly, were an entirely different matter. They surrounded Jon and soon had him occupied with questions about knights, tourneys, and dragon quests. 

By the time he had patiently answered their queries, another rider caught up to them. Judging by the flushed, pleased look on Sansa’s face, he could only be the crown prince. Prince Jon’s half-brother did not look anything at all like him. His features were more feminine, his hair as white as snow, and his eyes a lighter shade of purple than King Rhaegar’s. Catelyn could not entirely blame her elder daughter for swooning over this man, despite the fact that she was already betrothed to another. Aegon Targaryen VI was easily the most handsome man in the entire Seven Kingdoms, perhaps even surpassing his father in looks. 

Right now though he looked more like an exile who had traveled half the world to meet his punishment than a prince pleased to meet his subjects for the very first time. Dragons were made of fire, not ice, and Aegon Targaryen was no exception. It was evident that the journey to Winterfell had taken its toll on the young prince, and Catelyn suspected it would be a while yet before she would be able to see this Targaryen smile. 

“Allow me the honor of introducing my half-brother, Aegon Targaryen, the Sixth of His Name, Prince of Dragonstone, and – ” 

But no sooner had Jon finished his courtly introductions than a thin slip of girl in a dark grey fur coat came barreling at him with such force it knocked the dark-haired boy backwards. 

“ _JON!”_

Catelyn tried her utmost not to wince. Even with her eyes closed, she would know that voice anywhere. Was it too much to hope that her wayward daughter would come back from her romp in the woods _after_ the Targaryen host was safely within the castle walls?  Apparently not. Trust Arya to make her entrance in such a fashion. 

With a mixture of dismay and consternation, she watched as her daughter happily threw her arms around Jon and peppered him with kisses, propriety be damned, her face alight with a happiness that Catelyn only saw when her favorite cousin was around. 

“I missed you so much,” she cried out happily, burying her head in Jon’s chest and never once letting go of him. 

Jon ruffled her hair and grinned. “I missed you too, little she-wolf,” he replied with equal fondness. “But you’re not so little now, are you?” 

It was true. The last time the cousins had been together was five years ago, when King Rhaegar had finally decided that it was past time that Jon left for King’s Landing. When his mother Lyanna died upon giving birth to him, Ned had insisted that the king send him to Winterfell to be fostered alongside the rest of the Stark children, which accounted for Jon’s closeness with Arya, but upon being summoned by his father to learn the intricacies of court and be a favorable companion to his half-brother Aegon, they hadn’t seen him since. 

And now the sniveling little girl who said goodbye to him at this very same spot five years ago was now a woman. Catelyn was pleased to note that Arya had grown up remarkably well, as her increasing number of Northern suitors would only be glad to tell her, and what was once a face that earned her the nickname “Arya Horseface” was now something that could rival Lyanna Stark, the Queen of Love and Beauty, herself. 

Shrewdly, she noticed that the two strapping young princes had come to the same conclusion as she had. The crown prince, in particular, had the look of someone whose heart had been instantly spirited away. At first he had been annoyed, both at Arya’s interruption and at the fact that he was no longer the group’s center of attention, but upon seeing Arya’s face his expression had changed to one of awe. The lad was clearly smitten. 

“You must be Lady Arya,” Aegon Targaryen said, sending her a smile that must have melted the heart of every young lady in King’s Landing. “My brother Jon has told me much about you.” 

Arya eyed him warily, impervious to his charms. “Yes, I suppose Jon has mentioned you to me in his letters as well,” she conceded. Then leaving it at that, she wrinkled her nose not-so-subtly and turned her attention back to her cousin, having evidently decided that Aegon was not worthy of her time. 

Catelyn was about to intervene and insert a note or two of admonition to her daughter, but Sansa saved her from doing that by taking the chance to engage Prince Aegon in conversation. The prince addressed her affably enough, but Catelyn could tell that his attention was still fixed on her younger daughter. 

Aegon Targaryen did not look like a man who took rejection well, but those entrancing violet eyes of his shone with dogged determination the longer he stared at Arya. 

_So the boy would not give up without a fight. That was good._

 

 

* * *

 

“Pray tell, what are you plotting?” 

Catelyn tore her gaze away from the dancing newlyweds and gave her husband an innocent smile that did little to reassure him. “Whatever do you mean?” she asked him casually as she fingered the rim of her wineglass and took a morsel of roasted venison before graciously sending it to the Tyrell table, where the Queen of Thorns appeared to be in pained conversation with Mace Tyrell. 

“I know you, Cat. You are planning something,” Eddard Stark told her, his usually somber face now replaced with curiosity. “What is it?” 

Catelyn knew better than to hope that she might be able to fool her husband. “Tell me, Ned. What do you know of young Aegon?” she asked him instead, knowing that he was the right person to ask about the subject, seeing as he had been travelling back and forth from Winterfell to King’s Landing these past few months to keep an eye on Jon and aid the king in certain matters that concerned the realm. 

“He is a bright enough man, I suppose. He inherited Rhaegar’s flair for languages and history, he is good with sword and lance, as courtly and well-mannered as Daenerys, as charming and spirited as his sister Rhaenys, but with none of Viserys and Aerys’ cruelty. Granted, he could be a bit arrogant at times, but time will take care of that, I think.” Ned frowned. “But why do you ask?” 

Catelyn smiled at Ned, pleased at the answer he had given her. “Nothing. I was merely curious now that I’ve had the chance to see him for the first time,” she replied. “He gets on very well with Jon, doesn’t he?” 

“Yes. He loves Jon fiercely, and does not seem to mind at all that they have different mothers.” 

“An admirable trait. Not many can say that they could be as tolerant as him,” Catelyn remarked. “I don’t know if I would have done the same if I were him.” 

Her eyes flickered towards Prince Aegon. He was pouting sullenly at Jon’s side, looking rather neglected by his half-brother in favor of Arya, who was chatting animatedly with him, her hands flying wildly as she strove to make her point. They looked so comfortable with each other, and Catelyn thought of how much easier her task would be if only he could be the prince Arya could be persuaded to marry. It was a pity Jon Targaryen had elected to join the Kingsguard in favor of married life. Besides, she wasn’t at all sure that their affection towards each other went beyond sibling and cousin ties. 

Aegon Targaryen, on the other hand… He reminded her of Rhaegar during his younger days. She examined him as he once again attempted to capture Arya’s attention, asking her random things about Winterfell and showering her with compliments. Jon, ever perceptive, dutifully did his best to help his half-brother but only managed to unsuccessfully hide his mirth whenever Aegon’s efforts were rebuffed. Arya remained as solid as a brick wall. 

After several more attempts, Catelyn saw Jon rise from his seat. “Do excuse me, I must talk to Robb and Margaery and offer them my congratulations,” he suddenly announced, much to Arya’s consternation. “In the meantime, sweet cousin, will you keep my brother occupied? Someone needs to stay with him and make sure he doesn’t drink too much wine.” 

Before Arya could blatantly voice her objections, Jon was already gone. Sinking wearily to her chair, she surveyed Aegon with barely concealed distaste. Undeterred, Aegon took this opportunity to charm his way into Arya’s good graces, which, judging by the way Arya kept reaching for her wine cup, did not seem to be going well.

Catelyn felt a headache coming on. She had much work to do.

Ned laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, forcing her to divert her attention back to him. He had seen the direction of her gaze, and he did not look pleased about it. “No, Cat,” he simply said. 

“Why not?” Catelyn asked him, looking at Ned coolly. “You’ve seen the way the prince looks at her. This does not seem like a passing infatuation. Are you afraid King Rhaegar will object?”

“Even if Aegon doesn’t broach the subject, one look at Arya and the king will propose the match himself. And therein lies the problem.” 

“You don’t want Arya to be a future queen? Surely you know the advantages this position might bring her?”

Ned shook his head. “It’s not that,” he told her. “Several years ago if you had asked me that, I would have readily agreed. But now that I had a chance to watch her grow, I’ve had time to change my opinion. It’s not about what we want, Cat. We need to think about what Arya wants. She is too much like Lyanna in this regard, and the wolf blood has only grown stronger in her over the years. I fear that if we push her too hard, she might end up doing something… regrettable.” 

Catelyn did not agree. She may not have known Lyanna Stark as well as her husband, but she was still a mother. Even though Arya behaved like an untamed beast at times, she knew that given the situation, her daughter would not do as her late aunt had. Arya had inherited too much of Ned’s practicality for that to happen. She was her father’s daughter at heart. Still, it didn’t hurt to do something to help the situation. 

“And if Arya were to agree to such a match? Will you consent?”

“I would be a fool to refuse.” 

“I’m glad that’s settled then.”

Ned sighed. “Try not to get your hopes up, Cat. This is Arya we’re talking about. I find it hard to believe that she would simply say yes.” 

“Leave Arya to me, Ned.”

 

 

* * *

 

The following day she summoned her daughter to her chambers. Arya came in typical late fashion, her long unbraided hair in customary tangles and her dress sporting new stains, suggesting that she had been spending her time outdoors again, doing only god knows what. 

Arya took her seat reluctantly, no doubt fearing another scolding. “You called me, Mother?” 

“Indeed,” Catelyn said, pursing her lips slightly and peering at Arya closely. “What happened to your dress, young lady?”

Her daughter winced. “Bran, Rickon, Jon, and I were having a snowball fight out in the courtyard,” she admitted. 

“And what of our guest? I trust you are being a good host to Prince Aegon? He seems to have taken a liking to you,” Catelyn remarked in as nonchalant a manner as possible. 

The mere mention of the Targaryen prince instantly put a damper to Arya’s spirits. Her face darkened. “Oh, yes. He was there with us too,” she disclosed, looking none too happy about it. She turned to her mother in confusion. “Wait, is this about him?” 

Catelyn nodded. “Yes. I am going to be very frank with you, Arya,” she began to say, schooling her features in an implacable mask so as not to betray her innermost thoughts. “I want you to stay away from Prince Aegon.” 

Arya stared disbelievingly at Catelyn, the words taking her completely by surprise. “You want me to…” Her voice trailed, and then a heartbeat later, a look of irritation crossed her face. “Is this some jape? In case you haven’t noticed, Mother, that’s what I have been trying to do for the last few days. Perhaps you need to direct your words at _him_. I’m telling you, the man’s a complete creep! He keeps following me around like a lost puppy, it’s getting quite annoying.” 

“Mind your tongue, Arya,” Catelyn reprimanded her. “He is still our prince, and heir to the Iron Throne besides.” 

“A pity,” Arya muttered under her breath. “But all the same you want me to avoid him. Why?” 

Now for the tricky part… “Aegon Targaryen is an important man. You don’t need me to tell you that. He has a dragon’s temper, and if you offend him enough times to risk angering him, it could end up very badly for us, especially for your father. And the last thing this realm needs is a strain on Targaryen-Stark relations. Do you understand, Arya?”

Arya bit her lip. “I suppose…” 

“But you must exercise subtlety. Be cordial and interact with him if you must, but never go beyond your duties as a host. I don’t want you getting attached to him.” 

Arya laughed. “Have no fear on that account, Mother. I assure you, that will never happen,” she vowed. “Is that all? Can I go now?” 

“Yes, you have my leave to go,” Catelyn graciously allowed. “Remember, Arya. Stay away from Prince Aegon. That is not a request.”

 

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before Catelyn’s words exhibited their effect on Arya. She was making her way to the godswood, only having narrowly escaped the chore of accompanying Sansa and the rest of her lady friends for an afternoon of sewing and gossiping, when she found herself face to face once again with the crown prince. By the looks of him, he did not stumble upon her by chance. 

“Lady Arya,” Prince Aegon greeted her with well-practiced suaveness, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. 

“Prince Aegon,” she acknowledged him stiffly, hoping against hope that he would go away. 

But her hopes were dashed when Aegon immediately attached himself to her side, his long legs easily keeping pace with her short, hurried strides. The stupid fool even had the nerve to place a hand on her elbow. How presumptuous of him. “Where are you going?” he cheerfully asked her. 

“The godswood,” was her crisp reply. 

“How delightful. Jon has told me wonderful things about the godswood in Winterfell. Is it true you have heated pools there?” 

“Yes.” 

“I shall have to see it with my own eyes then. Do you mind if I accompany you?”

Arya gritted her teeth, her patience fraying. Was this man completely incapable of taking a hint? “Actually, I do mind,” she said in an overtly saccharine tone. 

The grip on her elbow did not slacken. “Well, I’ll come with you anyway,” he declared, his mood as bright as ever. 

Arya whirled around to face him. “Prince Aegon, do you find special pleasure in tormenting me?” 

The prince stared at her uncomprehendingly, as though he could not quite believe that someone had just said that to him. “Why, I wasn’t aware I was doing that, my lady,” he said. “In what way have I, as you have so nicely put it, been tormenting you?” 

Arya gestured wildly with her hands. “ _This,”_ she cried out. “This whole game of following me around and complimenting me and asking me questions. There are more than enough people in Winterfell, stupid prince, and you’re welcome to bother any of them. But I want you to leave me out of it.” 

For a second, a flash of haughtiness and ire crossed Aegon’s face, and Arya wondered if this time she had said too much. She remembered what her mother told her, about the prince having a dragon’s fiery temper, and her mind immediately started going through contingency plans and words she might say in order to explain herself to her mother, but when she risked a glance at him, Aegon was smiling once again, his momentary anger already forgotten. 

“You, Arya Stark, are the most interesting lady I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting,” he told her. 

Arya gave him a look that clearly stated that she was not impressed. “I am not a lady,” she boldly corrected him.

“Yes. I suppose you’re not,” Aegon agreed with a smile. “You’re something far better than that.” 

For the first time in days, Arya’s barrier wavered, and she allowed herself to glimpse Aegon Targaryen in a completely different light. She’d hated him even before she’d met him, that was true, because on some level she had never completely forgiven him for taking Jon away from her and away from Winterfell. A part of her knew that her line of thinking was unreasonable – if she wanted to blame anyone, she should blame King Rhaegar – and surely as a Stark she was above such petty and childish behavior, but her devotion to Jon, coupled by Aegon’s excessive way of lavishing attention towards her, had made it hard for her to see reason. 

But ever since she had that conversation with her mother, something within her had shifted. It was as though her inherent tendency to rebel was making her more open and perceptive to the possibility of allowing Aegon a place in her inner circle of trust. 

She therefore concluded that her mother had foolishly misplaced her fears. Aegon could hardly be a threat to her family, if his reaction earlier was any indication. He was just a stupid prince bored out of his mind. He was also extraordinarily determined. No matter how many times she drove him away, he just kept coming back. It was almost becoming endearing. And for a creep, he had rather nice eyes, though Arya was loath to admit it. All in all, it was possible that she had misjudged him. 

She decided to find out the truth for herself. “Well, don’t just stand there,” she finally snapped at him. “Are you coming with me to the godswood or not?” 

Aegon grinned, the full force of his joy directed at her. “Lead on, my lady.”

As they went further away from the inner castle, Arya suddenly paused and, as though guided by instinct, glanced up at one of the tower windows. She caught a glimpse of her mother’s face peering down at them, and for a second she felt infinitely guilty – after all, she had promised to put distance between her and the prince – but the moment soon passed. 

Arya blinked. She could have sworn she saw her mother smiling at them both, but that was probably just her imagination.

 

 

* * *

  

Barely a few weeks after the Targaryen brothers had chosen to stay at Winterfell for a while to seek relief from the travails of court life, Catelyn had another conversation with her daughter. Eddard Stark was also present, but this time, it was Arya herself who approached them. 

“Father, Mother, I’ve come to ask you something.” 

Ned regarded her fondly. “What is it, child?” 

Arya gnawed at her lip, a sure sign that there was something on her mind. “Can I go to King’s Landing with Jon and Aegon when they leave the day after tomorrow?” she said in a rush. “It was Aegon’s idea. At first I didn’t want to go, but he kept on insisting and, well, I thought about the fact that I’ve never been anywhere but at Winterfell, and I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to see something new, even though Olenna Tyrell once told me that King’s Landing smells like horse shit. But Aegon said there’s this really talented water dancer named Syrio Forrel who came all the way from Braavos, and he promised me he could make Syrio teach me lessons, and oh, you won’t even have to worry about me because Jon will be there to look after me, so can I please go?” 

Catelyn was aware that her daughter was rambling and fought the urge to smile. She hadn’t failed to notice that Arya had now taken to calling the Targaryen prince by his first name, which was, in her opinion, a remarkable improvement from “that stupid creep”. 

Things had progressed even better than she thought possible. Granted, she’d played her part, giving Arya disapproving looks every now and then whenever she caught him conversing with Aegon with the same enthusiasm she showed Jon. But other than that, she hardly had to do anything else. 

And now the road to her daughter’s future was finally secure. Robb was happily married and every inch the great leader he was meant to be, Sansa was soon to become the Lady of Highgarden, Bran to become a knight and hopefully follow in Jon’s footsteps, and even Rickon at his tender age was already betrothed. Catelyn could rest easy now. 

She heard Ned give his approval to Arya’s notion of accompanying the two members of the royal family to King’s Landing, after making sure that it was really what she wanted. Arya, in turn, gave her mother a searching look, knowing she might be livid after all the warnings she’d given him about Aegon, but to her surprise, Catelyn nodded at her as well. 

“For true?” Arya asked, as though fearing this was this was some kind of trap. 

“For true,” Catelyn assured her. “About our last conversation… It seems I was mistaken, Arya. I see it now.” 

When Arya finally left to share the good news to Jon and Aegon, Eddard Stark turned to his wife, his wonderful, brilliant, scheming wife who had somehow made the impossible possible. “Well played, Cat.” 

Catelyn’s lips curved upward into a smile. She had always wanted a grandchild with violet eyes.

 

 

 


End file.
